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Linda Kenney’s ankle surgery on November 19, 1999, wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. After all, it was her 20th surgery to repair the bilateral clubfeet she was born with. She knew what to expect. Her husband was at work planning to pick her up as usual after the surgery, and her kids were at school, expecting to find their mom at home later that day.

Frederick van Pelt, MD, thought he knew what to expect, too. After all, he was an experienced anesthesiologist who had performed nerve block anesthesia many times over. But when he injected the anesthetic into Kenney’s lower leg, her heart stopped.

Three days later, Kenney woke up in the ICU. An endotracheal tube prevented her from asking her husband why he was crying and what had happened to her.

While Kenney was in the hospital, she says no one really told her what happened — an anesthesiologist told her she had a “reaction” to the anesthesia. (According to Kenney, her cardiac arrest was caused by a rare but known complication in which a large amount of the local anesthetic makes its way into the blood stream via an undetectable collapsed blood vessel.)

Although Kenney says she received clear discharge instructions about how to manage her surgical recovery, no one ever offered her or her husband emotional support for the trauma they had been through. Instead they clung to each other and to their relief that she was alive.

Van Pelt was given the afternoon off following the event and says he was told that even the best physicians are sued. He was never allowed to explain or apologize to Kenney while she was in the hospital.

Still, contrary to advice from hospital administration and risk management, van Pelt wrote a letter to Kenney in which he said he hoped she would find healing. Other sentiments he expressed in the letter would later contribute to the development of a group devoted to helping those involved in medically induced trauma — he wrote that he was suffering, too. He believed in honest and open communication and said that if Kenney wanted to contact him, he would be happy to speak with her. At the time, she labeled the letter “damage control.”

Six months later, Kenney was in the throes of an emotional storm, but she decided that she would not pursue a lawsuit. She reasoned that she did not want to ruin someone’s career and says that a lawsuit would have forced her to relive the event over and over.

Taking back the power

“So in April 2000,” says Kenney, “I decided to take the power back.” She rescheduled her ankle surgery and remembering van Pelt’s letter, she attempted to contact him. But she was disappointed to learn that he had left the Boston area (for career reasons unrelated to the event). Kenney felt she had missed her opportunity for closure and healing.

But one week later, van Pelt, having learned that Kenney was trying to reach him, called her. That phone conversation was the beginning of Kenney’s emotional healing. “I knew that forgiving him was a gift to myself,” says Kenney. “I couldn’t be responsible for someone living with the burden of almost killing someone, even though it was unintentional.”

During their conversation, which van Pelt described as the most meaningful dialogue of his life, he and Kenney agreed to get together and meet one another if van Pelt returned to Boston. After the call, Kenney contacted the hospital where the event took place and requested support services. She received no reply. Next, she wrote a letter to the hospital administration saying that it was unacceptable to receive no follow-up to an event like hers — one in which she almost died.

There was no reply from the hospital for two months. Then Kenney says she received legal-sounding “form letters.” She credits the anger she felt about the letters with fueling her quest to find help for people who have endured events like hers.

But Kenney found almost nothing nationally or on the Internet that helped patients in her position. What she found were frequent references to “victims.” She also found that there was too much anger among organizations supposedly devoted to help and support. “There are plenty of people who aren’t angry,” says Kenney. “They are mostly suffering from the emotional impact of the trauma they’ve been through.”

An opportunity for advocacy

Van Pelt and Kenney came face to face when van Pelt returned to the Boston area about two years after the original event. Reflecting on each other’s pain, they asked themselves at that time, “Why aren’t there any support services for everyone involved?”

They answered their own question with the development of Medically Induced Trauma Support Services (MITSS), an organization born out of their mutual concern for the patient’s, family’s, and health care professional’s pain and suffering after a traumatic event in a medical setting.

According to Kenney, patients want several things after a medically induced trauma (defined in sidebar). First, they want the truth about what happened to them. “And,” adds Kenney, “they will know if you’re lying.” Second, they want an apology. Kenney says, “In my case, I wanted someone to acknowledge that this was a serious event.” The third is an assurance that what happened to them will never happen to anyone else. And last, but not least, patients want support. This could come in a number of ways — financial, emotional, whatever they need.

MITSS also recognizes the need for clinician support after adverse medical events. In the initial days following Kenney’s cardiac arrest, van Pelt tried to speak with Kenney’s husband, who asked van Pelt to stay away. Van Pelt came to two conclusions: The husband was unprepared to hear an apology or explanation, and van Pelt was unprepared to cope with this type of situation.